Southern Avenue

Chapter #6

Chapter #6

Ranvijay took the envelope and opened it when he found two boxes and another letter inside it. By once glance he knew that it was for him, as his name 'Ranvijay' was beautifully scripted on the backside of the letter. It was the typical way of dedicating a letter to someone, he thought and smiled to himself.

It reminded him of the swing that he and his grandfather had hung on one of the trees back in the garden one summer when he had been seven. It had been one of the first times he'd come to India and had been searching for fun things to do. He had told his grandpa that India was boring.

From then on, his grandfather had been hell bent on proving him wrong. When his grandmother had got whiff of the same fact? She'd started with her storytelling and various fun activities that she'd done as a kid.

Until the last moment, his grandmother had been the best storyteller there had been. He also suspected that some of those stories had been real, while the others she'd written and constructed herself. As a kid, he'd found them fascinating. As an adult, they still managed to attract him over anything else that he'd yet found.

He was in a trance again, when Sharanya's voice broke him away from it.

"I think I should give you the privacy. I may take my leave now." She said and cuddled Jimmy's head once, who was sleeping on her lap, and stretched him out on the couch, while she stood up, making sure he was still comfortable as he slept.

"You can stay if you want." He spoke. He didn't mean it in any other way, but he had liked the time conversing with her. She spoke of content, of life that she'd lived her way and yet neither seemed to regret it or think that she'd overachieved things. She was as humane as possible, as it came by.

"Would... would you mind if I go out on the lawn and my... old room?" She asked hesitantly, stuttering midway. It wasn't the place she lived anymore; she was so unsure about it. It was his mansion and she had no power over it. It would have been trespassing if she just went on a tour without consent. She was just a mere stranger and a visitor, who'd once lived in the house. A stranger who had once called that place home.

"Sure. Should I accompany you?" He asked, looking at her, while she shook her head in negative. Sharanya didn't want to disturb while he took his time to read the letter. It would only discomfort her. Also, she wanted to be alone for some while in the house as well. It'd been so long that that feeling had felt like they were fading away. She just wanted to renew them again.

"I know the ways." She smiled sweetly and keeping her purse on the table beside the couch itself started walking away. She had almost walked out towards the lawn, when his voice called her back, stopping her midway. Turning around, her head bobbed once to ask him why he'd stopped her.

"Sharanya." She heard him call, in his hoarse voice, just her name from his mouth made her skin tingle in a weird way. She realized that he had not really used her name until then, "I think there's a letter for you as well."

She frowned and looked back at him, as his muscles flexed. Ranvijay walked towards her and passed her the paper that was in his hands, while she kept looking at them as he held them in his hands, still not letting go. Her grip was yet loose on the papers, unable to believe that she was receiving one of these, yet again.

"Another one?" She whispered to herself and looked at the white sheet, which had 'Sharanya' scribbled over it in Ranghuvir Singh Shekhawat's handwriting. His handwriting was unmistakable. That man had been the person who had sat with her for hours even in his extremely busy schedule and taught her English properly. He'd been the one who had corrected her every time she mispronounced a word.

He'd been the man, who had flicked her on her forehead every time she made mistakes in her grammar papers and gave her her favourite candies whenever she'd had it completely done correctly.

Ranvijay snapped his fingers in front of her, as she nodded quickly, took the letter and escaped through the main door towards the lawn which was now lit only by the lights, giving birth to a silhouette to everything else beyond.

For how long had the elderly couple visualized them getting these letters? That too, together? They wondered while they took their own comfortable seats, and started reading what the Shekhawat grandparents and left for them, respectively.

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Sorry for the delay :( I've been a tiny bit sick and the internet connection here sucks. Thus the impatience and not uploading. The next chapter will be uploaded on Saturday without a fail. By Saturday night. :) 

Love, 
Dee.